holy shit i'm writing pr0n

srlsy. my porn name is the marquisa de sade. and please tell me you get the reference.

PORN!
yeah. it's kinda hard for me to do. but i'm doing it because travis is sick and i want to make him feel better by writing LOTS OF PORN about us.

and i wanted to see if an entry with the word PORN so many times would get random comments from spammers.

what a wonderful carciature of intimacy

i don't really have a good reason for being up this late....perhaps, yes, i was at work until 11:45, and yes, mom was watching the departed when i got home so i had to escape so it wouldn't be ruined for me, and highlighting my hair seemed a good option, and then yes, i had stuff to do on the net, but still. i could have gone to bed a little while ago. but i'm sitting here waiting for travis to text me back, so i can call him. i'll call him anyway, we know this. still. my excuses.

i highlighted my hair because i'm tired of this tri-color shaggy dog shit, and somehow looking good is important to me. a powerplay is all it is, really, because when i look good i feel good because i know people are thinking they'd like to fuck me, and the knowledge that i produce that response and am unavailable is a sweet, sadistic pleasure for me.

the masochist in me also produces a need to look good, to slavishly submit to others' desires to see me pretty, even if i would rather really not and just want to stay in my sweats today, thanks.

i wish my life were like the lives of tv people, who sit around in coffee houses and talk and seemingly never have to work but have a ton of money to play around with, and are always witty and looking good, unless it's part of a joke. i wish my dad would pay for my college. i wish there were more hours in the day, though summer here makes it close.

i sing aloud to the black parade but wonder if i'm telling the truth or lies to keep myself silent. who wants to carry on?

why?

do i do these things?

they only waste time.

5:20 omglollerz

I have arbitrarily decided that 5:20, being both a month and an hour after 4:20, shall be
International Have Sex Till We Puke Day.

So, um, Travis...GET YOUR BUTT UP HERE, BUCKO.

It makes sense--at 4:20 we light up, giggle, get totally fucking stoned, and then after an hour rolls around we sort of kind of get around to the sex part, but because we're stoned we do it really slowly and clumsily and sort of throw up afterwards.

So. This HollyDay is OFFICIAL, because the QUEEN HAS SPOKETH.

In other news....

I'm completely and totally behind in my articles for Immanence. So I should get cracking.
I'm kinda over the internet war mentioned before.
I have decided to start a new blog. In fact, I just did: http://keukenheks.blogdrive.com. A cooking blog. No content as of yet, but it's forthcoming. I figure--I love to cook. I love to bake. I love to experiment in the kitchen. I call myself a Kitchen Witch. WHY NOT have a blog about it?

Because I want to have a life?

Anyway.

I'm sure I have a lot more to say, but it's probably all narcissistic and boring, so I'll leave off here. I have work to do at any rate, so I should stop dawdling.

Love you, my bitches
Jagged

more nightmares

I swear, the more I sleep, the more I don't want to.

Anyway...enough with that.

MNS Publishing Ltd. has been approved and reserved for us, so all I need to do now is go to City Hall and register my business, and then Corey and I can actually officially have something to publish Immanence Magazine.

Saw Nausicaa last night. Good movie. Arguably his best and cheesiest.

BREAKFAST TIME!

Laters.
J

the kill...bury me

I got caught in a nightmare cycle while I slept last night. It was horrible. Quite possibly the worst I've ever been in.

I woke up never wanting to sleep again.

And I swear to god, the dream had better fucking be just borne of my own fear and paranoia and be in NO WAY premonitory.

Because if I lose him, I'll kill myself.

Maybe not literally, though there's no telling. Right now I have no idea how I'm even going to survive the next 6 months without him. And I know that if I do lose him, that's it. This is my heart's last chance for redemption. He is only one I will ever love for the rest of my life. I can't get hurt one more time and survive. This is one of those things I just know, regardless how fucking silly it sounds.

Hurt the heart too many times and it eventually just closes up.

And how do I tell him?

How do I find out if he feels for me what I feel for him?

I mean, fuck. I love you doesn't always equal you're the only one for me.

Shit. Looks like another night spent crying.

the ghost of you

so right when i feel like writing and actually pouring my heart onto this cruel digital page for the voyeurs of my internet life to lap up like hungry puppies

my fucking keyboard breaks.

watch my apostrophes, quotation marks, question marks, and back slashes:

è È É é

not even fucking kidding.